


lord, i’m five hundred miles from my home

by shepromisestheearth



Series: hundred word prompts [3]
Category: Original - Fandom, Our Pure King, Our Pure King Prequel
Genre: Also yes I have two characters named Benjamin!, Angst, Comfort fic, Fluff, Gay, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Roadtrip, dont @ me they’re incarnations of each other so, mention of antisemitism because the 1940s are stupid, our pure king’s confusing I’m not gonna explain her here, sad 1940s men, theyre in Switzerland!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 16:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17584424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepromisestheearth/pseuds/shepromisestheearth
Summary: Worn out from constant train rides across Europe to achieve their final destination of France, Elias Kaczynski and Benjamin Yakubov decide to settle for a few days in Zurich, Switzerland before continuing on again.Short fic of them settling in together and being allowed to love in peace. Part of my prompt list; prompt was “dance.”





	lord, i’m five hundred miles from my home

**Author's Note:**

> note: if any of the German or Polish is off, PLEASE let me know! I unfortunately don’t speak either (I’ve made feeble attempts to learn Polish) and yeah! enjoy my loves !!!

prompt: dance  
-  
A cigarette pinched between his lips, Eliasz’s eyes drew around the perimeter of his significant other. 

Benjamin was sitting at the tiny writing desk that the rented chalet that the Swiss had provided to them, hunched over a letter. The harsh scratching of the nib against the cheap paper resounded throughout the room, almost as loud as a thunderstorm. He was too tall for the desk, and Eliasz thought to himself how different things were from their school days.

“Who are you writing, żabko?” Eliasz drawled, coughing on the smoke a bit as he laid on his back on the bed. 

Benjamin looked over his shoulder, that stupid, cheerful smile on his face, “Matka. I am telling her how pretty Zurich is,”

Eliasz grinned, “You should write her about how pretty this is-,” 

Eliasz threw up his legs and pointed to his arse. Benjamin looked mortified, face the color of a raspberry, “Absolutely not! You'll get yourself arrested for indecency,” 

“I’m not being indecent,” Eliasz protested innocently, batting his eyelashes of gold, “It’s just the beauty of Switzerland is of no comparison to me.” 

“Maybe not you, but I think just about anything could outshine that smelly arse of yours,” Benjamin hummed, turning back to his letter. He poised his hand above the paper, preparing to finish the letter with love, and his signature. 

Eliasz opened his mouth in protest, kicking Benjamin in the shoulder and earned himself a laugh and a swat. Benjamin had smudged his closing when Eliasz kicked him; he gawked at the paper open mouth, then turned back to him. Eliasz burst into laughter, so hard he started to choke on the soot in his lungs. Benjamin had tears in his eyes from laughing himself. 

“Stop making me laugh when I smoke, you!” His sock foot now rested against Benjamin’s upper arm. His hands rested on his stomach, 

“Then when would I make you laugh, my love?” Benjamin asked him, his fingers pressed to his lips as he gazed at Eliasz. He drummed the pen against the table betwixt his index and middle finger, the tapping of wood echoing against the pine walls and accompanied only by the small gasps of laughter that still wiggled loose from Eliasz’s lips every so often.

“I don’t smoke that often,” Eliasz said, and made his point by snubbing out his cigarette in the glass ashtray that was on the nightstand. White flower blooms lay trapped in the glass for eternity under the ashes, or until someone dropped it and it shattered. 

“What are you looking at?” Benjamin asked, pointing towards the bedside table. 

“Are you done with your letter?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I didn’t want to interrupt.” Eliasz closed his eyes briefly and yawned, then fixed his gaze back on the ashtray. 

“What is it?” Benjamin rose to his full height, six-foot-two. He peered down at Eliasz’s stretched out form with childlike curiosity. His hands held clasped at his stomach like a choir boy and his full lips fallen open as if he was going to ask a question but had forgotten the words. Eliasz swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing; Benjamin was truly beautiful, wasn’t he? 

He tugged his gaze away from Benjamin, clearing his throat to try and unstick the words, “There are flowers in the ashtray...,” 

He walked to the bedside table and his nimble fingers closed around the glass, avoiding the cigarette, “Edelweiss flowers- they say that if you give them to a lover it’s a promise of dedication.” 

His other hand inched onto the comforter of the bed, a deep forest green that reminded Eliasz of the evergreens before they were stacked with snow or for firewood. The two’s hands met, fingers bumping together and finding the right place to fit together wordlessly, the same way they had done a thousand times in the dark library. 

Eliasz pursed his lips in amusement, resting his cheek on his opposite hand, “Shall I steal it for you, then, with promises?” 

Benjamin scowled in his direction, “It’s because they’re very hard to acquire. Auberach wrote about them.” 

“Who?” 

“He’s a German-Jewish poet,” Benjamin stroked the glass slowly, “Which probably means all of his work is gone now.” 

The words felt like hot pokers in his flesh, seared by that horrible, disgusting symbol, “Oh, darling, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, my sweet,” Benjamin leaned towards him and kissed him. His lips tasted of zwetschgenwähe (or śliwka, as the Polish called them), a type of plum tart, and coffee. Eliasz realized, burying his fingers in his darkening hair, that his lips were chapped. But a Swiss winter’s doing didn’t matter to him; he soaked in the kiss the way flowers soaked in sun. 

If this trek across Europe was not successful in their safety, at least they had experienced some of the finest foods of the continent. Eliasz talked about his longing for the tastes of the French, although Benjamin did miss his mother’s traditional cooking. 

“I’ll put the radio on,” Benjamin hummed, pulling away. His nose nuzzled against Eliasz’s, pecking him again on his Cupid’s bow before standing. 

His stomach still flip-flopped after all of these years, his eyes following to the closed door and his fingers pressed against his breast, “What are you putting on?”

“I’ll find a German station, it shouldn’t be too hard,” Benjamin said, stroking his chin. He twisted the knob on the wooden radio, and it crackled to life. A news reporter said something about the weather in German, and Benjamin changed the channel. 

“Und jetzt für Fräulein Marlene Dietrich, die wieder verliebt singt!” 

“Oh, I love this song,” Benjamin said softly, sitting in one of the leather armchairs next to the fire, “Marlene Dietrich has a lovely voice, doesn’t she?”

“You know me. I love the Americans,” Eliasz shrugged, rising from their bed. He smiled at Benjamin, who had his head leaned back and eyes closed; his lips formed the beginning words of the song. 

Eliasz drifted towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder, kissing his forehead. Benjamin looked up, a perplexed look on his face as Eliasz reached down for his other hand. His eyes shone, blue and blazing as the skies. 

“I want to dance,” Eliasz said, as Benjamin’s lips formed the question. He squeezed Benjamin’s hand, pursing his lips, “No one will see us here. We are safe to.” 

“Of course, slonko,” Benjamin said, placing the hand Eliasz had previously held onto his lover’s waist, “Every moment is precious, with you.” 

“Sing to it, for me?” Eliasz asked, looking up to Benjamin as he rose from the chair, “Please.” 

“Sich wielder verlieben…,” Benjamin sang softly, afraid next to the vocals of the famous German singer, “Wollte ich nie…,” 

Eliasz leaned his head on Benjamin’s chest, closing his eyelashes against his warm neck. His partner’s arms encircled him, and rubbed his upper back gently. He pressed a sober kiss to Benjamin’s sweater, fair isle of burgundy and gold, “You’re so beautiful,”

“Was soll ich tun?” Benjamin asked, his fingers pressed against Eliasz’s shoulder blade. He let Marlene Dietrich sing without him, his heart sinking in his chest as he pressed his lips to those caramel-colored curls. 

“Benjamin?” Eliasz whispered, as he felt the tremor in Benjamin’s shoulders, “are you alright?”

“Are we safe, my love?” Benjamin said, as Eliasz pulled back and cradled his face. His expression was twisted with worry, wide-eyed, as he hugged Eliasz closer. 

“Nestled in the mountains. They won’t look for us here.” Eliasz assured him, caressing his freckled cheek. His lips formed a smile, to try and coax Benjamin out of his worry, “Imagine- just this little chalet, all ours.” 

Benjamin looked at his feet, biting hard on his lower lip, “To nie jest bezpieczne…,” 

“They won’t,” Eliasz whispered, rubbing his upper arm, “This is our dream, isn’t it? A home for ourselves, where I can chop wood and bring you milk and you can cook?” 

“It isn’t right- I made you come along. I-I made you feel this way…,” Benjamin began to cry, “You don’t want that, you deserve a wom-,” 

“Bullshit,” Eliasz said, hugging him tightly, “I kissed you first, didn’t I? And you know I would be broken hearted if you had left without… telling me.” 

Benjamin didn’t say anything in response, only a shuddery breath. He began to pull away; Eliasz kept a fierce hold on him, 

“You didn’t- consider going to France without me, did you?” Eliasz hesitated, realizing that in a different reality, he may still be on the Kaczynski milk farm and lovesick. 

“I’ve been wondering if I made the right choice. Dragging you into this.” his dark eyes scanned the room for anything to look at, anything other than his boyfriend. 

“I love you, for God’s sake!” Eliasz snapped. He hadn’t wanted to get angry with Benjamin, but he needed to knock some sense into him, “And I don’t care if you’re a Jew, or a fuckin’ man for that matter! I never cared about any of that- I care about you,” 

Benjamin looked at him, teary-eyed and stuttering, “I-I’m sorry, Eliasz… I’m so worried about everything, I want you to be safe. And, and you re- you know that if things… if you ever feel differently-,” 

“I won’t.” Eliasz said, leaning his forehead to Benjamin’s, “You’re such a fool, do you know that? If I could tell everyone how I loved you… they would be annoyed to piss by how much I would say.” 

“Do you?” Benjamin asked, stroking his curls absentmindedly. His tears had begun to dry, his fingers becoming reacquainted to Eliasz’s waist. 

“Yes.” Eliasz said, leaning into him. He almost lost his balance as he did so, making both him and Benjamin stumble. He barked a laugh, unable to help himself. 

A hint of a smile returned to Benjamin’s face, “I love you, too.” 

“I know.” Eliasz said, promptly kissing him, “That will save us.”

“I hope so,” Benjamin said softly, as Eliasz instead held their hands up to the height of their shoulders. Settling back into the crevice of his lover’s neck again, Eliasz’s ears perked at Benjamin’s song, a different song than the radio played.

“Kiedy cię nie widzę, nie płaczę;  
nie wzdycham Nie tracę rozumu,  
gdy napotykasz moje oczy Ale kiedy nie widzę cię przez długi czas Coś Imiss, kogoś,  
kogo muszę znaleźć I kiedy tęsknię,  
to zastanawiam się Czy to ta przyjaźń?  
Czy to jest ta miłość?” 

“Głupi…,” Eliasz couldn’t help his grin. His cheeks squeezed into his eyes, giddy with happiness, “Love, always. And read me the letter you wrote your mother, won’t you?”


End file.
